


Hot Like Burnt Marshmellows

by majorbisexualdisaster



Series: Hot Like [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Embarrassing Photos, F/M, Family Shenanigans, Fireplaces, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, Jon Snow and the Starks Are Not Related, Kissing, Marshmallows, Robb Stark is a Gift, S'mores, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Sleepovers, Snow, and there was only one bed, celsius not faerheightnacuenbvreunv idk how to spell it, lol, oh my god there was only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorbisexualdisaster/pseuds/majorbisexualdisaster
Summary: Of course, there's a blizzard in the middle of November, this isThe North. Ned insists Jon stay the night with the Starks and, as usual, shenanigans (and some kissing) ensue.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Series: Hot Like [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989706
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	Hot Like Burnt Marshmellows

**Author's Note:**

> My computer kept crashing while I was trying to write this so I kept losing it over and over again. Let me present to you _Hot Like Burnt Marshmallows Version **340 652 911**_. Hurray!
> 
> Enjoy :)

Well, the second date went infinitely better than the first one did. So did the third, and the fourth. The two other shitty ex-boyfriends were introduced on the fifth (Petyr Baelish, their former business teacher, which is a little worrisome) and sixth dates (and while neither ended with them in the hospital, Jon still has a pretty nasty shiner from the Baratheon kid).

And now, suddenly, it's the middle of November and they're running into the mall to escape the snowstorm they just walked through. A blast of heat slaps them in their faces as they push through the revolving door, stomping the snow from their boots as they walk further into the heat. Sansa's entire face is red, clashing with her messy hair let loose from her hat. Jon whips out his phone and takes a picture before she notices. 

"I hate this weather," she complains, slipping her gloved hand through his. "Why can't we live in Dorne? It's like twenty-five degrees there right now."

Jon runs a hand through his hair, the snowflakes already beginning to melt. "We'd probably both burn, there though. I think I'd rather freeze than burn."

Sansa makes a noncommittal noise and begins walking to one of those fancy dress boutiques. They pass a large tree, decorated in red and gold ornaments and Jon groans. "Why are there holiday decorations up already?" The more he looks, the more he sees gaudy baubles and smiling snowmen and extravagantly wrapped boxes with nothing inside them. 

"Get into the spirit, Jon. It's fun." 

She pulls him into a store while he grumbles, "It's a waste of money is what it is."

They walk to the back of the store, where racks and racks of dresses are hung. Sansa browses through them, pulling out some and throwing them over her arm. Eventually, Jon offers to take them since she looks like she's about to topple over from the weight. The store has on a holiday music playlist that has Jon gritting his teeth (it's worse than _Marillion_ , and Jon thought that was impossible). She tries on the dresses, and although she looks good in everything, Sansa insists on going to more stores. 

At long last, they end up leaving the mall three hours later, with the first dress she tried on.

"Oh gods," Sansa says as they approach the doors. "This doesn't look good."

It really doesn't. The blizzard's only gotten worse as the day progressed: torrents of snow beating down outside, making it almost impossible to see. Sansa zips her dress bag under her jacket, they both wrap scarves around their face and pull their gloves back on. Sansa wraps her arm around Jon's as they walk back out through the revolving doors. 

Small pieces of hail hit him, the sharp pain radiating through his exposed face. The strong winds tear through the meagre fabric of his jacket as they run towards the bus stop, the red pole barely visible through the snow. The bus skids to a stop a few minutes of jumping-up-and-down later and they quickly get on.

"Do you mind if I ride this out at your place?" Jon asks, blowing hot air on his hands as they find a seat. 

Sansa nods as the bus jerks back into motion, stumbling slightly before grabbing onto a pole. "Sure, sure. Dad's probably already got hot chocolate and a fire going."

The bus ride takes twice as long as it normally does, but there's still, thankfully, daylight left when they reach their stop. They rush hand-in-hand to the Stark house, tumbling into the heat and slamming the door shut behind them.

Ned comes rushing in, holding tissue boxes and two steaming mugs of cocoa. "Why didn't you call us to come and get you?"

"We're fine, Dad. It's just snow. Besides, it probably would've been worse to drive in this, at least buses are big."

After removing all their winter clothes, Jon and Sansa are ushered into the family room where—true to her word—there is a massive fire roaring in the hearth. Robb's sitting half in Theon's lap on a chair and they have a cheesy holiday movie playing on the TV.

"Snow, you look like a drowned rat," Theon says, eyes on Jon's hair. Jon rolls his eyes as Robb hits his arm. 

"D'you get your dress, Sansa?" Robb asks, not waiting for an answer, he continues. "I hope this lets up so we can go to school tomorrow. I have a test."

Sansa agrees, draining her hot chocolate before rushing upstairs to put away her dress and change into some comfier clothes. Jon leans towards the fire, hands wrapped around the hot mug. "Did your mum and the kids get there alright?" he asks, looking over at Robb.

He nods. "Got there this morning. Arya's already complaining. Here, look." Robb gets off Theon's lap (who complains about losing his blanket) and shows Jon his phone. Arya's been spamming him with photos of Cat and Edmure arguing, Rickon running away from Robin Arryn, Brynden and Hoster Tully also arguing, and one with Lysa and Jon Arryn kissing, which was more disturbing than Jon though possible.

"Poor kid."

"Poor _Theon_. I'm so cold. Robb, come back." 

Robb rolls his eyes but sits back down as Sansa comes in, sitting beside Jon on the floor. "Dad's ordering pizza and he said you and Theon aren't allowed to leave until the blizzard's let up."

They tip the pizza delivery person graciously. 

The storm is still raging outside long after sunset. Gusts of wind snapping off branches and rattling windows in their frames. 

"It's awful outside, Mum," Jon says into his phone, the reception is scrappy, but not entirely gone yet. "I'm staying with the Starks, alright? Don't want to walk home in this."

"Alright, love. Tell Ned I say hello, my break's almost up. I love you, Jon."

Jon smiles. "Love you too, Mum. Be safe tonight."

"Always."

Jon walks back into the family room, eyeing the package of marshmallows in Theon's hands suspiciously. He's wearing a pair of Robb's pyjamas, with the pants rolled up slightly. Robb is off somewhere and Theon and Sansa are sitting in front of the fire. Jon sits down beside Sansa, head on her shoulder. They're stabbing marshmallows with wooden skewers. Jon steals one and shoves it in his mouth, earning him a slap with the skewer from Theon.

"We're making s'mores. You're not allowed to eat these."

Jon grabs another one.

"Sansa control your boytoy."

"Gods!" Robb shouts. "What— _boytoy_ —what is going—actually nevermind. I don't want to hear it." He glares at Theon and Sansa before tossing a bag of chocolate and a bag of graham crackers at them. 

He sits down beside Theon, getting his hand smacked after he tried to reach for a marshmallow. 

"Is your dad coming?" Theon asks, grabbing the marshmallow bag and putting it between him and Sansa. 

"No," Sansa says, "he said he needs to finish some case for the Boltons."

They all shudder at the name. "Those guys creep me out," Theon says. "Like they're secretly all axe murderers or something."

"Except Domeric," Robb says, popping a piece of chocolate in his mouth. " _Ouch_ —don't hit me Theon that hurts."

"Domeric was quite nice. What happened to him?" Sansa hands Jon a marshmallow skewered onto a stick. "Don't burn it, we can't go out and get more."

"Ramsay probably murdered him with an axe."

Jon takes the skewer then proceeds to set the marshmallow on fire.

"I like it crispy," he tells Sansa after successfully blowing out the fire, staring at the cooling black lump hanging off the end of his skewer.

"That," Robb says, stuffing his perfectly toasted marshmallow between two crackers, "looks disgusting, Jon. And carcinogenic." He takes a bite. "Oh fuck, these are so good."

Jon tries twice more (eventually setting his _skewer_ on fire too) before giving up and letting Sansa deal with his marshmallows. They finish the food quite quickly, sprawling on the couches and chairs, leaving the empty packages in front of the dwindling fire. Sansa has her head in Jon's lap, the credits of another awful holiday movie are rolling on the TV, the wind and snow _still_ haven't let up outside. Jon runs his fingers through her hair, it's much silkier than his, almost no tangles to speak of.

Robb begins to snore and Theon pokes his cheek until he wakes up. "You're going to have to walk upstairs, baby. You're too heavy for me to carry."

"'M not," Robb slurs, nestling further into the couch. "Light as n'angel."

"Come on, Robb," Theon says, pulling his arm. "You have school tomorrow, remember. English test."

Robb shoots off the couch, smacking his forehead into Theon's. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." He runs upstairs shouting something about Hamlet's fourth soliloquy and Yorick's skull. Theon watches fondly as Robb trips up the stairs and falls face-first on the landing.

"Do you need to study?" Jon asks.

Sansa shakes her head. "I don't actually have a test tomorrow. I just didn't want to go down two days early. Mum's family is...not... _fun_ to be around."

Jon laughs. "Then what shall we do with our free time? It's only ten o'clock."

Sansa sits up and cracks her back, shooting him a smirk over her shoulder. "I convinced Dad to let you sleep in my room."

Jon chokes. _"What?"_

"Well, it'd be weird for you to sleep in one of the kids' rooms and Theon's sleeping with Robb, so it's only fair." She pulls him off the couch and the head upstairs, passing Robb's room as he paces back and forth, throwing notes all over the place.

Jon has been in Sansa's room a total of four times in his life, the last being when she still had princess posters glued to her walls. It's changed a lot since then, still immaculately clean though. The walls are painted a light blue, sticky notes cover the board above her desk. There's a double bed with a white duvet and _no_ air mattress on the floor. Oh gods. They're sharing a bed. _Oh fuck_.

Sansa jumps onto the bed, the springs creaking slightly. She looks like an angel, with her red hair splayed out, big blue eyes crinkled with a smile, wearing a large t-shirt over a pair of shorts. Her long, toned legs are tucked up under her as she sits on her knees. "Jon you look like you just saw a ghost."

"Uh—um." His brain has stopped functioning. "You're really pretty."

Sansa smiles. "You do realize you can't just say that to get out of awkward conversations, right?"

Jon nods. "Yeah, uh-huh." His brain still isn't working.

She raises an eyebrow and pats the spot beside her. "Are you just going to stand there all night?"

"Yeah," Jon sighs, watching Sansa's mouth crinkle into a smile. _Wait_. Oh. "Uh, I mean no. No, right, yeah. Um no."

Sansa laughs, clutching her stomach and doubling over. It's quite possibly the best sound Jon has ever heard, light and musical. He sits down gingerly on the soft bed, running his hand over the fluffy duvet. They lay down beside each other, Sansa propped up on her elbow, face still flushed from laughing. "Wanna watch Netflix."

Jon's mind goes places he'd rather not think about with Ned Stark two rooms down.

"Sure, we can use my phone."

He unlocks it to the picture of Sansa from earlier, red-faced from the chill, hair messy from her hat. She lets out an indignant squawk and tries to grab his phone. "Oh my gods, _delete that_!"

Jon rolls onto his side, the phone underneath his stomach as Sansa tries to reach over. "You look cute."

"I look like I just ran a marathon!"

"Yeah, like one of those sexy marathon-runners." He turns his head to look at her fuming face, her cheeks bright red, gorgeous blue eyes narrowed into slits. "You always look beautiful."

Sansa presses her lips to his, sending jolts of electricity running down his spine. "You're still going to delete it."

"Whatever you say," he whispers, his voice husky as he stares into her dilated eyes.

She swings a leg over him, straddling his hips. His hands come up to her waist as she kisses him again, stroking the sliver of skin above her shorts. Her mouth is hot against his, soft lips parting, her tongue dancing into his mouth. Her touch sets his skin on fire.

Her chest presses against his and Jon's sure he's never felt this _alive_ in his entire life. She kisses along his jaw, down his neck, sucking a bruise behind his ear. Jon's hands roam over her back, pressing her closer, closer, closer—

"Hey, Jon can you help—oh my gods, _oh my gods_. No, no, no, no, no." Sansa sits up and they both stare at Robb who has his hands covering his face. "This is—no. Theon! Theon, I need to bleach my eyes!" 

Sansa looks back down at him before breaking into laughter, shoulders shaking as she slumps down against him. "Oh my gods, why doesn't he knock?"

Jon shrugs and rolls Sansa off from on top of him. The wind howls outside, the sound of a tree snapping echoes through the house.

He still ends up sharing a bed with a Stark that night, though Robb looked more ready to murder him than kiss him. 


End file.
